


weightless.

by nitroish



Series: bbs stuff. [9]
Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 15:55:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19748953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nitroish/pseuds/nitroish
Summary: he is on top of the house, standing stories above everyone that resides in it. they dont know hes up here and he didnt - doesnt - have intentions of telling them. so right now, theres no one here to hold him down. no one here to hold him back. only himself, the wind, and only the sky and birds that fly above him.





	weightless.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading. enjoy C:

he is on top of the house, standing stories above everyone that resides in it. they dont know hes up here and he didnt - doesnt - have intentions of telling them. so right now, theres no one here to hold him down. no one here to hold him back. only himself, the wind, and only the sky and birds that fly above him. hes standing by the edge of the building with his mask on his face. it hangs loosely, because he hadnt bothered to untie last time he took it off, and when he slipped it on he hadnt bothered to fix it. its off kilter, off balance, unlike himself as he stands here.

his feet are planted firmly to the concrete, toes less than an inch from the two foot high raised edge of the roof. and hes tempted, oh so tempted to rise higher than the roof itself; to climb that ledge. but he doesnt, but maybe he will.

he breathes in, closes his eyes, and he can feel the expanse of this roof around him. the way its empty, the feeling of no one around, the feeling that he wont be bothered. he can feel the wind hit him and flow around him, mussling with his hair and jacket before moving on. its the feeling of empty air; the way you know youre in a park alone, in your home alone. its the absence of the feeling when you know immediately when someone enters the same space as you when you were once alone.

he can hear it. the way he hears its raspy voice as it echoes in his ears. can hear it pass him, hears it swallow him and disappear as quick as it came. he can hear his jacket rustle in the wind, can hear he wind hit his mask and deflect off of it. he can hear it hit the door and the walls around it that lead down into the floors below him. he can hear the silence; the sound of no one else breathing, no gum, no yelling or shoe tapping. he only hears water dripping from the gutter, only hears the sound of the wind that amplifies the sound of no annoyance.

he opens his eyes and he looks out across the view. sees trees breathing in air, the clouds drinking in a sunset; the orange and yellows, the pinks and purples, whites and blues mixing with vivid colours blended into and out of themselves. he smells fresh air, smells someone cooking something down the street because the wind blows the smoke his way. he wonders if he asks anthony or luke if theyll make dinner. a cook out.

hes always wanted to know what those were like. his neighbors used to have them all the time, and he was always jealous of how many people they would invite over, how many people could fit into their lives. he wasnt like that before he joined the bbs; wasnt open to having people over, didnt want to breathe the same air as too many people, didnt want them to see his face. but his neighbors had always invited him over.

.

[a note slid under the door has him baffled. his hair is messy, hes in blue pajama pants and tank top, holding a mug of rootbeer because he doesnt know what kind of coffee he likes and is too afraid to attempt to make it. and theres a note on the floor, and he can see the detailed cursive writing on it from where he stands.

he picks it up and comes to the conclusion he was invited to his neighbors cookout again. his heart drops, and his stomach feels empty. he forgot to eat yesterday whilst he was out. he reads further down the note and theres a different colour there.

'i left this on your step, but i saw you come home late and you looked dead beat tired! so i thought id pack up some leftovers for you, hun! the 'wares are sitting outside behind your little plant box. rest well, eat well, neighbor! xoxo ♡

ps. you always seem to come home late! you work such late hours, dont you. i hope next time you can make our cookout! :)'

sure enough, there are tupperware containers full of food behind his plants. he looks up at the next door's porch and stands there quietly for a minute before stacking the food and lugging it inside. he lays it out on his counter and sits down at the island and puts his head in his hands and stares down at the note.

his neighbors were too good to him. he doesnt even know them, they dont know him. he eats the dinner, transfers the food to his own containers. (plastic, because he cant afford tupperware.) then he cleans it, stacks them, and grabs his own paper.

'thank you for the food, i really appreciated it. id forgotten to eat, so you saved me there. your containers are in your porch swing, because i cleaned them for you and dont want you to have to worry about dirt. thanks again! 

ps. ill try! :)!'

he doesnt make their next cookout.

the person next door leaves him a note and four containers of food anyways.]

.

his body twitches, and he feels like nothing way up here in the sky. he wishes he could dissipate into the wind, be carried along with it.

he feels weightless, and his shoulders shake just a bit as he leans forward over the raised edge of the roof. plants his hands onto the ledge there, and raises a foot onto it. he pushes himself up, up, and then he stops. because he cant go higher. his legs arent long enough. he isnt as tall as the highest building that can scratch the surface of the sky.

he closes his eyes again and breathes. tall, standing above that tree in the distance, above the door thats behind him, above him from thirty seconds ago.

his skin doesnt feel like its there, his body is empty or gone, and he feels too light for his brain, and he feels a bit woozy. or dizzy. same thing. he opens his eyes, and he wonders why he feels lighter than before.

the sun is gone completely now. the wind has died down. the trees arent rustling, and the air doesnt feel empty anymore. the air isnt his.

he sways involuntarily, and his legs are jelly.

a hand steadies him.

a voice says, 'come on.' and delirious's foot catches the edge of the raised ledge as he shifts backwards towards the person behind him.

he says, ''m not - im not d-doin anythin'.' and his voice cracks, and his tongue feels light, and he feels like he could be swept away into the sky by the voices hums hitting his back. their hand feels warm, heavy, and its keeping him anchored to the roof. he doesnt feel real, doesnt feel solid. his breath is shaky, and he can see the ghost of the breaths being let out in front of his mouth and face. the hand and the idea hes breathing keeping him from being swallowed by the sky.

they say, 'i know.' and theres another hand on his wrist, and then it transfers to his hip. hes lifted up, and he giggles maniacally as hes turned and set back down on the roof. they say, 'i know, but its late. everyones worried bout ya.'

they ask, 'can you make it down the stairs?'

he cant feel his legs, and he proves it by stepping forward and falling to the concrete. he closes his eyes and laughs as he lays there. they say okay and lift him up. gets him to stand with his arm over their shoulder, and then hooks their arms under his knees and behind his lower back. they carry him.

delirious coos and knocks his mask against their chin as he rests his head down. hes tired. he feels too light. he closes his eyes. he opens his mouth, though.

'w- mm. when - uh.' he hears the others heartbeat, and feels their warmth, the heat coming off their chest and arms. hes so tired. hes so light. hes nothing. 't- tomorrow. i wan- want an'tny n luke t' c-cook.' and the person holding him laughs lightly, and delirious raises his hand and pats the persons chest lightly, assuming they know what he means by it. [read: hush.] they dont, and he waits, and he continues. 'o-out. i wan- wanna cookout.' and hes done, those are his last words. his tongue doesnt work. he feels his body turn into nothing.

he hears anthony say, 'i can do that.' before he drifts off, into his own mind, into his own nothing.

anthony pushes the door to the lounge open. people are quiet when they see delirious in his arms, and smiity stands and hops over. takes dels mask off and sets it on the table nearby that holds their masks. then he motions for anthony to follow, but only leads him to the couch. smiity sits back down next to john, and pats the extra cushion next to him.

so he assumes he sits down. with jon still in his arms. smiity giggles, rolls his eyes. says, 'dummie. i meant put del down.' and anthony says 'oh' and begins to stand. smiity wheezes softly and pushes him back. says, 'well its too late now. gimme his legs. we'll just lay 'em out.' and anthony does, and it leaves dels head in his lap. he sits back and runs his hands through his wind tangled hair, puts his hands on his still cool wind swept cheeks.

luke carries over a blanket and drapes it over them and says, 'he hinted he wasn' doin well when we got back n disappeared. glad y' found em, panda.' and then. 'y' aint gettin up anytime soon, though.' and panda looks up at him, down at delirious, sees john and smiity leaning against one another next to him with delirious in their laps and whispers,

'yeah. okay. thats fine. can i have a drink, though? i carried this shit down from the fuckin' roof.'

a few confused and concerned 'what??'s have him smiling, and he gets his lemonade.

a few hours later, after smiity and john have fallen asleep, panda whispers to himself and also luke who is sitting on the other bit of the large U shaped couch. 'he wants us to cook out.'

luke looks up from his phone and panda wholley agrees when he says, 'then lets cook out.'

they cook out.

delirious is invited.

he makes it to this cookout.

( he hopes his previous neighbor is okay and that they enjoy the ribs and steak left in tupperware on their porch swing.

'thank you. :)!  
ps. keep the tupperware.' )

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed, flof.
> 
> dambbrother on tumblr


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